


light my fire and we will be happy

by professortennant



Category: The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Halloween, shared magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 10:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14186835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: Pippa shuffles closer, presses her body against Hecate’s and leans her head on Hecate’s shoulder, hand remaining tightly entangled with Hecate’s. “Happy Halloween, Hiccup,” she whispers.Emotion chokes Hecate then and she sighs, leans her head upon Pippa’s and closes her eyes, fighting tears back, the magic crackling beneath her skin and sparking a nearby candle. “Happy Halloween, Pipsqueak.”





	light my fire and we will be happy

“ _When I was a young witch, we lit ceremonial fires and we were happy.”_

Hecate remembers being young and cooped up in her dormitory as festivities for Halloween were underway in the Grand Entrance Hall. Holidays were nothing to be excited for in her world--too frivolous and carefree and a waste of time for any aspiring witch. 

When she was much, much younger she had enjoyed the rush of magic that had filled her during Halloween. Memories of sitting out in the garden with her mother, curled up in her arms and staring up at the stars as the Earth itself became imbibed with magic and wonder and spirits of the Goddess herself. 

But after her mother’s passing, the wonder and stars had been replaced with books and stern glances from her father. The magic, he said, was found in books and control and structure; not up in the stars. 

Up here, in the safety of her dormitory with her books and her father’s words ringing in her ears, Hecate reminds herself that Halloween is not for her anymore.

A brief, cursory knock on the door is the only warning Hecate has before Pippa Pentangle blows into the room, doughnuts with orange and black icing in hand, and flops down next to Hecate on her bed.

“The castle looks absolutely splendid,” she says, her mouth full of pastry. She polishes off the last of the doughnut and licks her fingers of excess icing. Hecate stares at her pink tongue sweeping out over her fingers and swallows hard, dragging her eyes away from Pippa and the temptation she brings. 

Hecate shrugs, returning to her book. “I’m sure it does. Shouldn’t you be heading for the ceremony?”

Pippa frowns at her, sitting up on the bed and covering Hecate’s hand with her own for a moment before pulling the book from her hands. “ _We’re_  heading to the ceremony, yes.”

She shakes her head, feeling awkward. Her disinterest in festivities is simply another thing that sets Hecate Hardbroom apart; is another thing that holds Pippa back from happiness. 

“No. I don’t celebrate Halloween. Not anymore.” She thinks of her mother again and pushes down the well of emotion that rises within her; pushes it down and away and remains in control. 

“Oh, Hiccup.” Pippa stares at her for a moment and then shrugs, settling more firmly against Hecate, side-by-side on the bed and waves her hand so quickly that Hecate misses it. Pippa’s book bag and another plate of doughnuts appears and, without looking at Hecate, Pippa rummages through her bag, plucks a book from the stack, and begins silently reading, munching on the fresh plate of doughnuts beside her. 

Hecate stares, open-mouthed. “W-what are you doing?”

Pippa arches an eyebrow and lifts the book a bit in her hands. “Reading?”

She shakes her head, still confused. “No. You were going down to the ceremony. You’re dressed for the occasion and everything.” It’s true. Pippa is wrapped in a black lace dress, mimicking a spider’s web, with sparkling pink and orange stars dotted across the bodice. She is a vision that Hecate will not forget any time soon. 

Pippa’s face softens and she nudges Hecate’s foot with her own. “You’re not going, so I’m not going. Besides,” she adds, laughing at Hecate’s open-mouthed expression, reaching over to hook her finger beneath Hecate’s chin and lifting to close Hecate’s mouth. “There is no Pipsqueak without Hiccup, remember?”

She smiles and returns to her book, hand absentmindedly reaching for another doughnut, leaving Hecate’s mind whirring and heart thumping. At every turn, Pippa constantly surprised her: approaching and befriending her and then constantly,  _constantly,_ above all else choosing  _her._  

Hecate thinks of her mother once more--thinks of the rush of magic and the wonder and the stars and the simple joy of being filled with magic. She thinks of sharing all of this with Pippa and her heart beats in double time, loud enough to drown out her father’s words of frivolity. 

She draws upon the extra charge of magic in the air for bravery (and perhaps she also draws upon the feeling of Pippa’s foot resting against hers and the warm, comforting weight of Pippa pressed shoulder to knee beside her). 

“Let’s go, Pipsqueak.”

Pippa’s head shoots up, brow furrowed. “Hecate, we don’t--”

This time it is Hecate reaching out, finger brushing over Pippa’s lips and hushing her, heat flooding her cheeks when Pippa blushes and stares at her with wide eyes. “Let’s go,” she reiterates, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and modifying her dress with a quick sweep of her hand. The plain black fabric morphing into silky, patterned velvet that makes Pippa want to trace her fingers over and explore more thoroughly. 

Hecate offers her hand, palm up and waiting for Pippa to take it--hoping Pippa doesn’t see the slight tremble and shake of her hand. Grinning, Pippa stands and takes her hand, fingers tangling and palms pressing together. 

“We can leave the moment you’ve had enough, Hiccup, I  _promise_.”

Hecate grins at Pippa’s excitement and allows herself to be dragged down the hallway next to a practically bouncing Pippa Pentangle, their hands still tangled together and Hecate can focus on nothing besides that. The party will already have been worth it now that she has held Pippa Pentangle’s hand. 

When they arrive in the Grand Entrance Hall, Hecate feels her breath leave her body. Stars--thousands upon thousands of stars--have been magicked to the ceiling, twinkling bright upon the crowds of students and teachers below. 

For the first time in a long time, with Pippa’s hand in hers and the stars above her, Hecate feels the spirit of her mother flow through her, filling her up with magic and warmth and love. 

Miss Foxglove, their Deputy Headmistress, welcomes them into the hall and ushers them to a nearby ceremonial firegrate, smoldering embers waiting for the blessing of witches and magic to ignite and welcome Halloween officially. Her mother had said it was because fire was creation and destruction, warmth and light that fends off the darkness and the first signs of true magic. 

Hecate and Pippa huddle around the firegrate, hands linked together, and waiting for the signal from Miss Foxglove to begin the incantation. Finally, once all of the students had filtered into the hall, Miss Foxglove waves her hand and sends a shower of red and orange sparks through the air, signaling it was time to begin. 

The magic wells up within Hecate quickly and powerfully--more quickly and powerfully than normal and with a start she realizes her magic and Pippa’s are  _blending_ , lending strength to the other’s spell. Pippa is staring at her, eyes wide and disbelieving, and Hecate knows she is feeling it, too. 

The fire in their grate roars to life, springing higher and hotter than any other fire in the hall. But Hecate and Pippa only have eyes for the other, magic crackling in the space between their bodies and palms, the magic of Halloween flooding through them both and opening their hearts and magic to the possibility of  _more._

The hall of students quiets at the display of magic, but Hecate only has eyes for Pippa. She clutches at Pippa’s hand, overwhelmed and speechless.  _This,_ she thinks with a tinge of fear,  _is happiness._

Pippa shuffles closer, presses her body against Hecate’s and leans her head on Hecate’s shoulder, hand remaining tightly entangled with Hecate’s. “Happy Halloween, Hiccup,” she whispers. 

Emotion chokes Hecate then and she sighs, leans her head upon Pippa’s and closes her eyes, fighting tears back, the magic crackling beneath her skin and sparking a nearby candle. “Happy Halloween, Pipsqueak.”


End file.
